


Abduction

by BrainDamage



Category: Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Anal Sex, Character Death, It is really a bit sick. Could trigger I guess..., Kidnapping, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape because yes, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Murder, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4342784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainDamage/pseuds/BrainDamage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ives comes back to abduct Boyd and convince him to become his partner. In crime, cannibalism and sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. This is my first stand alone fic. I hope you like it. It was supposed to be shorter and it was supposed to be different but apparently this is what fics do. English is not my native language. Thanks to Yoyi for betaing.

Ives was waiting patiently. Watching his prey, cowering in the thicket of now withered bushes. He had been coming here for days now and Boyd didn’t suspect anything. Neither did the others. Most of the time Boyd just lay on his bed, still too wounded to move around a lot. A nurse looked after him, she came four times a day to feed him, to fluff his beds and to support him, when he needed to relieve himself. She wasn’t going to be a problem. He knew now when she would appear. And even if she was alarmed by something – well, she was small and thin. No problem at all. She would not even be able to scream. She wouldn’t have time for that. The doctor could be a bigger threat. He was young, tall and muscular. And after all, this was a military hospital, he probably knew how to defend himself. Apart from the nurse and the doctor nobody seemed to care about Boyd a lot, but they were military. All of them proved a threat. Well, he couldn’t carry out his plan anyway. Not yet. Boyd needed to get stronger first, or he wouldn’t even survive the first night.  
He will need his strength, he thought, both physically and mentally. For what I have in mind, he must be in a better state than he is now. Ives began to feel restless. This was taking too long. He risked to be discovered, someone could start to feel suspicious about him any day. Why wasn’t the camp moving anymore? They were too close to the village.  
Of course the Indians thought he belonged to the military but still, the more often he was around, the easier they could identify him later. No one around the camp had noticed him yet, at least that was what he thought. He had disguised himself as an Indian, long, grey clothes hid his uniform and a wide hat covered his face. And he kept in the shadows and tried to hide behind trees, bushes, tents. No buildings. This camp was a bit of a provisional solution. And this was why he had to get Boyd before they finally managed to move him somewhere else, a place with walls and locks. But then again, he had to wait a little longer for Boyd to gain more strength. It was a dicey situation really.  
He had to act now or retreat. He couldn’t stay here longer, someone would notice him sooner or later. He had to leave this place, go back to one of his hiding spots in the forest. They had to move eventually. He would come back later.

  
****

  
It was a miracle that they both had survived. Well, to be honest, Ives wasn’t surprised that he had survived it. After all he was a wendigo and he could heal faster than Boyd. A lot faster. When that bear trap had been opened, both of them had been barely alive and because it had been unclear who had caused all the murders, they had been taken to separate prison cells, where the rescue team had given them medical treatment. Luckily they had been fed with the soup Ives had prepared, probably everyone there had eaten it. The taste of human flesh had reanimated Ives instantly.  
He had instantly known that he was going to live, but he had pretended to be weaker than he was, so nobody was alarmed. His thoughts had circled a lot about Boyd. Was he going to survive this as well? Why hadn’t that man let himself be convinced of becoming a wendigo? They would have been a wonderful team. They could have ruled Fort Spencer. Feasting on new recruits and travellers while letting live their Indian servants - as long as they didn’t suspect anything. Having fun all day while others did the work. Spending their days hunting, swimming, playing cards and cooking together. Butchering together, fucking together... yes.  
He knew Boyd was attracted to him, but he couldn’t get over his conscience. It stood in his way, submitting to the dark side was not possible for him. Even if it made him immortal and powerful. No regrets. He sighed. It would never be possible. But at least he could try. Or die trying. Or Boyd dying in the effort. He laughed. Killing him would be nearly as good as fucking him.

  
****

  
Although he had been awake most of the time, he pretended to be weak and sleeping, so that there had been no special guards. When that Indian woman had come to feed and wash him, he had easily overpowered her. A bite to the neck and throat had silenced her immediately and he had drunk her blood greedily. Instantly he had gained a part of his strength again. Drinking blood was a bit like drinking alcohol, you could feel it running through your veins and slowly your body filled with heat and if you were weak, the weakness was gone, and if you were sick, the sickness disappeared.  
He had also feasted on her flesh, there was nothing better than raw, human flesh. If you tore it directly from the freshly killed body, it was as if it was still alive, it was still warm, there was life in it. The cells were not dead, there was no stiffness and you could feel skin and muscles and fat between your teeth and all of it was delicious. He had devoured as much as he could in that short span of time, then he had escaped without being seen. He had fled to the woods, had washed his blood-stained uniform in a river, had killed an Indian couple on the way and had stolen the man’s clothes.  
Their flesh had helped in his recovery. His beard and hair had grown again and after he had completely healed he had appeared in a village, his uniform hidden in a bag. An Indian tailor had patched his uniform – he had told him a story about how he wanted to sell it – and after a couple of nights he had disappeared again to find out what had happened to Boyd.  
That had not been an easy task. Boyd hadn’t been at Fort Spencer anymore, they had transported him elsewhere. But after asking around he had found out where he was – they were transporting him back to San Francisco, probably for questioning. Boyd had regained enough strength to be transported now. They used a horse-drawn carriage for him as he still couldn’t walk or ride but it was clear that they wanted him in San Francisco as soon as possible, so they didn’t waste more time while waiting for his total healing. He could be fully healed by now, Ives thought, if someone had given him the right food…  
Why was it so important to them to transport him? Maybe the point was not getting Boyd to San Francisco but getting him away from Fort Spencer? Getting Boyd away from him? Maybe he had told them everything. But that didn’t matter. He would get to him. Soon. They could not protect him. It was nothing more than a field camp. No walls, just tents. No dogs, just horses. No guards, just lazy, young soldiers, drinking too much whiskey. It would be so easy. He just needed more time.

  
****

  
Tonight was the night. It was very dark outside, the moon was gone, but Ives could see perfectly, with his wendigo eyes. They still hadn’t moved and when he had come back yesterday, everything was as it had been before. Only he had changed. He had shaved, the wild beard was gone, only his moustache left, like it was supposed to be. He wore his uniform again because today it might help him escape. But in the camp everything was as usual.  
The soldiers were playing cards and drinking, the Indians were trying to sell their stuff, food, mescal, peyote, sex. This was what the soldiers wanted. They didn’t want to prepare their food themselves, so they bought meat and polenta dishes from the Indians, and as they were bored they enjoyed getting drunk, high and laid. On top of that they usually bought little art objects for their wives or girlfriends at home. Hypocrites. They were pretending to be something they didn’t even want to be. Why did they bother telling lies to their families? Why not just stand up to what you do? Life was too short for regrets.  
They are not even worth to think about. They are nothing. They are not like me. Or Boyd... Suddenly he realized that this was the perfect moment. The nurse had just left. Boyd seemed to be sleeping, there was no light in his tent. The others were playing cards, in front of the big tent on the other side of the camp. And the guard was busy fingering an Indian prostitute who was leant to a tree a bit further away. And it seemed he wouldn’t stop doing that for a while.  
Slowly Ives left the shadow he was hiding in. Nothing happened. The soldier started moaning. He probably didn’t have to kill him, he wouldn’t be in the way at all. Ives wondered if the man would be punished when they found out that Boyd was gone. Probably. What would they do to him? Shoot him? Put him under arrest? Send him back to Fort Spencer? He smiled, when he asked himself what the biggest of those punishments was. He approached the tent and when nobody reacted, he opened it, and slipped inside.  
It was even darker in here and at first he couldn’t see anything but soon his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see a silhouette lying on the flatbed and he heard breathing. He got closer and when he arrived at the bed, he unpacked the rope and the provisional gag he had made from some fabric. Boyd was sleeping. He was lying on the back, breathing steadily. Ives almost felt pity. But he had to carry out his plan. He needed this. It was meant to be.  
Very fast he pressed his left hand down to Boyd’s mouth. The man woke up instantly and started to fight but Ives grabbed his arm and then whispered into his ear, “Don’t make a sound or I will slit your throat.” He said that calmly. Matter of fact. And it worked. Boyd stopped fighting and lay still. “I will take away my hand now. And you will remain silent. If you scream or shout I will stab you.”  
He looked down at Boyd, who stared at him, bewildered, with those blue eyes. Blue like the ocean, you could probably drown in them. Or maybe if you cut them, blue water would run down to the earth.  
“Did you understand?” he asked. Boyd nodded and Ives removed his hand. “Sit up,” he commanded, and Boyd did as he was told.  
“Can you walk?” He knew Boyd could walk. He had seen it. Boyd nodded again. Good. He didn’t dare to lie to him. “Get up then,” he told him and when Boyd got up, he slid behind him and tied his hands with the rope. He kept the loose end in his hands, like a leash. “You are going to follow me. You are not going to make any noise. Maybe they’ll kill me if you scream, but you will be definitely dead. So don’t try anything stupid.” To underline his position he pulled the rope and Boyd was pressed against his own body – and the knife he was holding. The man inhaled sharply and closed his eyes but he didn’t say a word.  
“I see you understand, so we won’t need this,” he added and put the gag back into his pocket. This was exciting, in so many ways. He felt his erection throbbing against Boyd’s buttocks, and he hoped the man felt this as well, along with the knife. Unfortunately he had to leave this position in order to open the tent and find out if they could leave without being seen. Luckily the soldier was busy fucking that prostitute against the tree. She seemed bored but the soldier didn’t care.  
Where is the point, Ives thought. How can you enjoy fucking someone who is bored? Make them scream. For whatever reason… He turned around and signalled Boyd to follow him. The man obeyed at once and it was only then when Ives realized that Boyd could see as good as him in this dark night. Wendigo, he thought. And you probably haven’t even realized it.

  
****

  
In the beginning they were walking quite fast, but soon Boyd had to slow down. He was still weak. When they arrived at a clearing, Ives commanded Boyd to stand still and he lifted the man’s shirt to examine his wounds. Most of them were already healed, beginning to become scars, scars that were caused by me, Ives smiled, but there was a big one close to his hips that hadn’t fully healed yet and the bandages were bloody.  
“Doesn’t look good,” he said, but when he saw Boyd’s disturbed look he tried to calm him down: “Don’t worry, it isn’t far,”  
Boyd then started to speak for the first time since he had abducted him.  
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.  
“You’ll see early enough. Now move”, he pushed him into the direction they needed to go. Boyd started walking again, slowly but steadily.  
For a while, none of them said anything. Then Boyd asked, “Why?”  
Why? What a stupid question. Ives snorted derisively but didn’t say anything. As if it wasn’t obvious! Boyd didn’t repeat the question. Good. He should just shut the fuck up. There was only annoying stuff coming from him anyway. They went on silently and when the path ascended a bit, Boyd started breathing heavily and walked even slower.  
He seemed to be in pain. And all that because he is not using all his possibilities. He could have been healed by now. Fuck you, Boyd…. Ives thought.  
“Sit down there!” he commanded, and pointed to a huge tree stump. It was obvious that Boyd felt relief when he sat down. He pressed his hands to his side and moaned. Ives sat down next to him and looked at Boyd. “It is your own fault,” he started. “You know what would help you. You would be dead by now if you hadn’t eaten human flesh.” A surprised look. Then denial.  
“I never…” he started.  
“Oh yes you did!” Ives shouted. “You all did. The stew I made? They were all eating it and they were feeding it to you…and me.” He grinned. Boyd paled. So he really hadn’t known! But it had been so obvious! How else could you survive injuries like that? “Didn’t you taste it?” Ives couldn’t believe it.  
“No….” Boyd answered. “But I wondered how we both survived.” A long pause followed. “That explains something….” he said, more to himself than to Ives.  
Ives stared at him, his piercing glance made Boyd look up and look him straight into the eyes. “Do you want to live? You know what you will have to do. Look at your wound!” Ives said. Boyd did as he was told. The blood covered the front of his shirt now. “I can’t promise you that you will live very long, though.” Ives sniggered. Then he laid down the knife and opened the small bag that was hanging from his shoulder. He took a snap tin from it, put it on the stump next to the knife and opened it. Boyd could see meat in it. But it was quite clear that this wasn’t the meat of an animal.  
“I don’t know if I can eat this,” he said.  
“Oh, you will.” Ives laughed. Then he took the knife and cut into his left arm. The blood dripped down onto the meat inside the tin. Boyd was horrified.  
“Why are you doing this?”  
Ives looked up again. “This meat is two days old. It has lost some of its power, but we can enhance it if we add fresh human blood.” Then he smiled. “It is also tastier that way.” When all the pieces of meat where covered in blood, Ives used the piece of fabric that was supposed to be the gag before to dress Boyd’s wound. While he was doing that he realized that Boyd wasn’t eating. He looked up again. “What are you waiting for?” he asked.  
“Who is this?” Boyd asked.  
“You don’t know him. An Indian.” Ives shrugged. “I don’t know his name.”  
“And…you,” Boyd added. Ives smiled.  
“Yes. And me.” Complacently he tied the ends of the bandage together. “I bet I am very tasty,” he grinned.  
“I cannot eat you!” Boyd insisted.  
“You are going to eat me.” In so many ways… he thought. Then he added, “And this is a promise. Now start!” he ordered.  
Boyd took the tin and with his fingertips he took one piece of meat from it. It was warm. Blood dripped down. It was raw. “This isn’t cooked,” was all he could say.  
“Does it matter?” Ives asked impatiently. "It loses a lot of strength when you cook it.” Then he raised his arm and reached for Boyd’s hand. He helped him putting the meat into his mouth. Boyd pressed his teeth together, closed his eyes, chewed.  
Ives watched him, anxiously, he was looking for any expression of repulsion on Boyd’s face. He was happy the man had his eyes still closed so he couldn’t see how nervous he was. And then it happened. Boyd started choking and then things occured very fast. Ives quickly went down to his knees and grabbed Boyd’s chin to press his lower jaw up while with his other hand he took hold of Boyd’s hair and fixed his head.  
Boyd opened his eyes wide, in shock, his hands grabbed Ives shoulders and he tried to get rid of the man’s tight grip. But he couldn’t do anything as he was still very weak and he tried not to die choking.  
Ives head was now very close to his own and then he felt the man’s mouth next to his ear, whispering, “Don’t panic. Calm down. Breathe through your nose. It is tasty. It will heal you. It is what you need. Trust me.”  
Suddenly the urge to get rid of the meat was gone and Boyd stopped choking. That was when Ives let go off his hair and instead of pressing his jaw up he let his hand wander up and petted his cheek.  
“Go on chewing. Slowly,” he whispered. Then his face was suddenly in front of Boyd’s. Very close. A wild expression lay on him, determination and rage but there was also something different that Boyd couldn’t really interpret. “Go on chewing.” This time it was an order. And Boyd did as he was told. He didn’t have any other chance anyway. So he tried to think about the meat, that still lay in his mouth, as something positive, maybe as something with magic, that would heal him. He had eaten human flesh before, apparently. So why not just get over with it? He started chewing again and he could instantly see how the lines in Ives’ face smoothened.  
“Yeah, that’s it” he said, while Boyd was chewing. It was a bit tough to bite it all into pieces. Not like cooked meat. The fact that it was cold didn’t help. But he seemed to manage it. “Now swallow,” Ives commanded and without thinking further about it, Boyd obeyed. Strangely enough he felt proud and embarrassed at the same time now, but it was gone and now they could go on, couldn’t they? “Take another one,” Ives said, his tone making it clear that it was no suggestion. He had to do it again.  
“I can’t….” he stuttered. “It is so cold and tough.”  
“You should have eaten it faster when my blood on it was still warm!” Ives looked at him, furious again. Then he smiled. “Let’s try this, then.” He took one of the pieces from the tin and shoved it into the mouth of a surprised Boyd. “Chew it!” he added, threateningly. When Boyd obeyed he put on an evil grin and bit himself into his lower lip until it bled. Boyd didn’t know what to do or to say.  
He didn’t understand anything. But suddenly Ives was pressing his lips to Boyd’s and he could taste the blood, warm, thick and with the flavour of iron, dripping into his mouth, mingling with the meat, making it easier to swallow, a lot easier and he couldn’t think anymore he just chewed and swallowed and felt Ives’ lips on his and suddenly all the meat was gone and then there was new meat and he felt those lips again and he couldn’t see anything because his eyes were closed and suddenly there was a hand in his hair, pushing his head and body closer towards Ives’ and then he felt how Ives body pressed onto his and he could feel the man’s erection and if he had had time to think about all of it he would have been disgusted but he didn’t think and maybe that was why he felt the same happening to him.  
He lost his sense of time and so he didn’t know how long this was going on and he lost his sense of reality so he didn’t know what happened and what didn’t happen but at some point he seemed to have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes the sun was shining and he lay on the ground and next to him lay Ives.

  
****

  
Why hadn’t he left when he had had the chance? He didn’t know. He felt a lot better now, the wound had nearly completely healed, the headache was gone, the numbness. He would have been able to find his way back to the camp, and more importantly – he could have killed Ives. But he hadn’t. Instead he had sat up and leant against that tree stump and he had watched Ives sleeping on the ground.  
How peaceful he had looked. Not like the monster he was. Just like a normal man, a likeable one even. But Boyd knew that this appearance was deceptive. He had slept next to a cannibal, he had eaten human flesh himself and in the end – everything seemed to be a bit blurry – what had he done? Had they kissed? Yes. And there had been more. He had been….sexually aroused. As had Ives. He blushed. And then memories came back, from another night, about 3 months ago, when they had both been nearly dead, when they had been caught in that bear trap. He had lain on top of Ives and the life force was leaving his body and the pain had been unbearable - but the whole situation had been somewhat…erotic.  
They had been at peace, finally while they had been united, in death. And yet he had felt so very alive. Maybe this was how you felt when you consumed peyote. He didn’t know. He had never tried it. And now he just sat here and he waited for the cannibal to wake up. He hadn’t been able to kill him although the knife was right there where he had left it and he hadn’t been able to run away although he knew how to get back. And suddenly it was too late, Ives moaned and yawned and then he sat up and looked at him, with those dark, evil eyes.  
“You look a lot better today, how is your wound?” he asked.  
“A lot better,” he answered, vaguely.  
“Good,” Ives just said and got up. “We can move on then.” He patted the dust from his clothes, put on his hat and took the knife and then turned around to Boyd, who was still sitting there, watching every movement Ives made. “What are you waiting for?” the man asked him.  
“Where are we going?” he wanted to know. And this time he expected an answer.  
Ives rolled his eyes, obviously irritated. “A small cabin in the forest, not very far away from here. If you hadn’t been so weak yesterday, we would already be there. There was no need for this stop really.” But I liked it, he added in his thoughts.  
“I don’t want to go with you.” Boyd stated, with a hint of courage.  
Ives froze. “Why not?” he asked.  
“I never wanted to come with you in the first place! You forced me!” Boyd was angry now. Why would Ives think he would want to join him?  
“Yeah, true. Now come.” Ives stretched out his hand, and to his own surprise, Boyd took it and he was lifted up from the ground immediately. Seconds later, they were walking side by side and none of them said a word.

  
****

  
They had arrived at the cabin. Nobody would find them here, that was for sure. It was hidden in the woods, far away from every road or even footpath. The last bit had led them through thick shrubbery and it had seemed like a miracle that suddenly the clearing had appeared. He hadn’t expected this. It was very dark here, not much sun could reach this place.  
He had been tired and his wound had started bleeding again, so Ives had supported him and took him straight inside where he had laid down on the bed. That was where he was lying now and where he let his eyes wander around to find out what kind of place it was. The thing that was most obvious was, that this cabin was very old. It must have been used by trappers years ago. Everything seemed to be slightly damaged and run-down, the curtains were mouldy and there had been a leak in the roof so that the wall in the corner had rotted. But everything had been repaired not that long ago apparently. Probably by Ives.  
Outside there was a heap of rubbish, all the furniture that was no longer usable had been put there. A chair and some planks, indefinable fabric, rusty metal pieces and a broken cupboard. He could see everything from the window, which Ives had opened immediately after they had come in. The shutters had opened squeaking and the light that had fallen in had illuminated a lot of dust that had been floating around.  
There was not much left in the house, a bed, an unstable table, a stool and a chair. An open fireplace with a kettle and some cutlery. Plates, glasses, a knife, spoons. A metal bowl that could be used for washing. They would probably have to use rain water, there was a barrel in the garden, next to the pile of rubbish. There didn’t seem to be a river close by. Ives was outside now, Boyd didn’t know what he did there. That made him nervous. What was his crazy plan? And why had he followed him without even trying to escape? He didn’t know, but he was tired and without realizing it, he fell asleep.

  
****

  
Ives just sat outside, unsure of what to do next. Boyd demanded an answer, but once he gave him that answer, the situation of ambiguity was over. Once he revealed his plan to Boyd, there was a decision to be made. And he feared that decision. Because although he had tried to convince himself of how unimportant Boyd was to him - the closer the moment came the clearer it was to him that it had all been pretences. Boyd was not unimportant to him, no, he clearly was his weakness.  
He thought too much about him, too much than was healthy. He thought of him as a friend, a person to work with and to have fun with but he also thought about him as a person to have sex with. Sometimes these thoughts were dark, as they usually were, when sex and lust were concerned. In his imagination Boyd did not consent to what he was doing to him then and this was not surprising as in those imaginations he fucked him as he usually did: raping, cutting, bleeding, mutilating and killing him during climax and after that of course…eating. This was, how he used to do it, this was how it was supposed to be. But strangely…he felt sorry when he thought about what he was going to do to him and his daydreams had now become a lot lighter.  
This was new and he didn’t know whether he liked it or not. It was weakness. It was not what he was. Ives even liked thinking about how it would be if Boyd agreed to parts of this. Of course not eating him but maybe a little cutting. And the sex part of course. How it would feel to fuck Boyd while he actually enjoyed it. While he shivered under him in ecstasy. How his eyes were closed and how moans came deep from his chest, similar to those of pain he had heard before, of which he had been the cause. How would it be to cause these different sounds for once? How would it be to collapse on the bed afterwards, together, both of them satisfied and happy?  
And then stay there, not getting rid of a corpse, which could be fun as well, but to just lay there, staring at the ceiling or staring at that man, naked, sleeping. To lift his hand and to touch that skin, sweaty and cold and to inhale his smell. To fall asleep next to another person without being afraid that this other person could kill him in the night. But would that ever be possible? Could he ever trust someone fully? He doubted it. He sighed. And then he got up and went back into the house. It was time.

  
****

  
When the door opened and Ives came in, very determined, Boyd knew that something was going to happen now. He was still very weak and he knew that he couldn’t defend himself, whatever was to come. So he just tried to stay calm and to act as if he was relaxed, to keep his dignity. But inside, he wasn’t relaxed at all. His pulse went fast now and he could hear the blood pumping through his veins, his heart beating like a drum. He wondered if Ives could hear that as well. The man had stopped right in front of the bed, then he looked around in the room, grabbed the stool and pulled it towards the bed, then sat on it. He looked at Boyd and didn’t say anything. What did that guy want? Why didn’t he just get over with it and kill him? What else could it be that he wanted? Killing him and then eating his flesh. To become more powerful.  
Then suddenly, Ives leaned forward and said, “You will have to make a decision.”  
“What decision?” he tried to ask calmly, but he wondered if his voice was trembling.  
Ives sighed. “Well, you know…I am going to get what I want anyway. It is your choice how I will get it. There are two possibilities for you but there is no easy way out. One possibility will be very painful, the other….” He paused. “…could be full of pleasure.” He looked at Boyd expectantly.  
Boyd swallowed. Full of pleasure? What was this man talking about. “So what are my options then?”  
Ives got up again and he started to walk around in the room. Was he nervous? Why?  
“Okay, then listen. I know that you are attracted to me.” He looked at him now. Boyd swallowed.  
“WHAT?” he asked, shocked. “Attracted to you? Are you mad?” Boyd couldn’t believe what he had just heard.  
“Oh, shut it!” Ives cut him, and Boyd immediately obeyed. He didn’t know what to say anymore anyway. “Stop denying it, you know it is true.” Ives went on explaining. “I felt it. In the bear trap.” He started pacing again. “I don’t know what you are attracted to, my powers? My lovely character? My outward appearance?” he sniggered. “Whatever. You are attracted to me.” And then he looked him straight into the eyes. “And I am attracted to you. I want you. And I usually get what I want.”  
Boyd froze. Was that maniac talking about sex? Had he felt the same back then, when they were both dying? What did he mean, he felt it? What had he felt? His erection? This was so embarrassing! He didn’t know how to react so he didn’t react at all, and just waited for Ives to continue, who had sat down on that stool again.  
“You have to understand,” he said, while bending down to him, “I am going to fuck you. Anyway. Either with your consent or without. I don’t care.” This was a lie, but Boyd didn’t have to know this. “If it is with your consent, you might have fun as well. You could…participate. We can stay here for a while, see how it works out. I don’t promise anything, but I will be more careful then. I will see to it, that you…” and here he raised his hand and let his index finger slide down Boyds arm, “…that you will be satisfied. It might be a bit rough, cause this is how I do it, but that’s something you can try to like.” He smiled. And he was a bit surprised that all colour was gone from Boyd’s face suddenly. Maybe he should have been more subtle? But he just didn’t want Boyd to know how much he wanted him to live, otherwise the man would have a form of pressure.  
Boyd’s voice sounded hoarse when he asked, “What if I refuse to participate? You are going to rape me? And then?”  
“I am going to rape you, yes. And then I am going to rape you again. And again. And I will rape you as often as I feel like it, and eventually I will start cutting you, because I like it bloody. Every part of your body will hurt, but maybe I won’t stop there, and I will start cutting parts off. When I have enough of you, which might take a while, I will fuck you one last time. And I will kill you. And eat you. Maybe not in that order.” He wanted to smile but it was more like a grin. It was strange, because usually he would have genuinely smiled. He didn’t want to do these things to Boyd, but he would. He would enjoy them. For sure. As I always do, he tried to reassure himself.  
Boyd had gone very silent. “I…" he started, “I will have to think about this.”  
“Yes.” Ives nodded. “Think about this. I will give you a week. Then I’m going to fuck you. Whatever you decision is.” He got up, reached high up to the wall and suddenly Boyd saw a rope in his hands. He wasn’t able to react that fast, and he still was so very weak and Ives, who had regained all his wendigo powers, was so very, very strong, so it was no problem for him to bind Boyd to the four posts of the bed. He felt naked although he was dressed, he felt exposed. And the worst thing was, that he could not hide his massive erection anymore. He didn’t know why it was there, but it was prominent. Ives smiled. He pointed to Boyd’s groins. “Seems someone has already made that decision for you. We could already start if you like?” And he reached out to press his hand against Boyd’s hard cock, but that was the last thing he wanted and so he squirmed and wriggled and shouted: “Don’t you touch me, bastard! You gave me a week!”  
Ives backed off. “Okay", he said. I think I’ll have to find someone else for my needs in the meantime.” He grinned. "I’m going out. I’ll hunt. We need food. And if I’m lucky I’ll find something to fuck. You stay here. Sleep. Get well. You will need your strength soon enough.” He laughed, went out of the door and slammed it shut behind him. Boyd started to cry.

  
****

  
When Ives returned, Boyd had made up his mind. The fuck he would do. He would die in the end anyway. Why give up his dignity, his humanity for nothing? No, he would not let that man fuck him voluntarily. Ives would kill him anyway. No need to agree to this. It was disgusting anyway. That erection he had had before? Probably some kind of instinct. He had read about stuff like that before. People being sexually aroused because their bodies sensed that this was the way to survive? Whatever. He would either be dead in some days or he would survive and find a way to escape. He would never give in to…this abomination. So when Ives came back in, his hostile face spoke volumes.  
Ives entered, put down the cadaver of a deer, looked at Boyd and said, “So you made up your mind then. Just after a night of thinking. OK.” He fetched a knife, knelt down at the cadaver and without a word, started cutting it. Boyd watched him, in fear. What Ives was doing to the cadaver, he could do to him anytime.  
His bonds were tight, there was no escape, he could hardly move. Ives seemed to be in a very bad mood. His cuts were fast and purposeful, and he seemed to know exactly where to start and what to do next. It seemed all mechanical. As if he was not thinking about it at all. Is this how he does it to humans as well? Or does he enjoy that more? Boyd thought. Ives movements got faster, as if he wanted to dismember the deer at record speed. But suddenly, he got up, his hands and arms covered in blood, and he looked at Boyd, and Boyd could see hate sparkling in his eyes.  
“Fuck it,” Ives shouted, threw down the knife and left the room again. Boyd didn’t know what to do. He still couldn’t move. His hands felt numb. If he only cold reach that knife, but it was too far away. All of a sudden the door opened, Ives came in again and grabbed the rest of the cadaver. He dragged it outside and after some minutes he came back and collected all the pieces of meat from the floor. Five, six, seven. He put them all onto some piece of fabric, two legs, two big pieces of meat, heart, liver maybe. Lung. Then he dragged everything outside. And he didn’t return that night.

  
****

  
He had been looking for someone like him for two days. A handsome, young man. Tall, slim, well-built. And easily distracted by alcohol. When he had made contact in the run-down bar, everything had been easy. Two drinks, a game of cards, some laughter about stupid jokes, more drinks, more card games, a hug and then the drug mixed in his last glass. Pretending to take care of him, his new best friend, taking him home. But taking him to the woods instead.  
The boy didn’t realize what was happening to him. He could hardly walk and he leaned to Ives as if he was his father. Or his elder brother. Or his lover. When he had to puke, Ives took him to a tree, when he had to pee, Ives opened his trousers and held his cock. When he was hungry Ives told him that it wasn’t far anymore, when he was tired, Ives encouraged him to move on.  
When they finally arrived at the cabin, the boy was hardly walking anymore, his legs had gone numb. Ives was more carrying and dragging him. This boy was beautiful. And this time Ives knew he wouldn’t have regrets. He would enjoy it. He grinned. His cock hardened when he thought about what he was going to do to him. And Boyd will watch. He will be delighted by the presentation. Ives smiled. It will show him what I am going to do to him soon. Then he opened the door.

  
****

  
Boyd still lay there, of course. Where could he have gone? His bonds were strong. The man looked desperate. Of course, he hadn’t eaten for two days and he hadn’t drunk anything neither. But why that embarrassed look? Fuck. He had wet his bed. I should have thought about that, Ives thought. He sighed. When he stopped supporting the boy, he fell down to the floor instantly, asleep. Or unconscious. Good.  
He moved over to Boyd, untied him, helped him up and sat him down to the floor. The man was weak, he couldn’t even make use of his arms and legs anymore, they were probably numb. He leaned Boyd to a leg of the table and then used the rope to bind him there, this time he spared his arms and legs and just put the rope around his waist. The man was too weak to run away anyway. Ives filled a cup with water from the kettle and handed it over to Boyd, but the man didn’t take it.  
He looked at Ives desperately, then opened his mouth and tried to speak, “Can’t….hands…” Ives sighed again, then knelt down next to Boyd and held the cup to the man’s lips. As soon as the water touched his lips, Boyd began to drink greedily. The cup was empty soon, so Ives got up, filled it again and then just placed it next to Boyd. He would soon be able to move his hands again.  
Time for more urgent matters. He went to the bed again and pulled down the deer skin that was on top. Great, it was only that one. The rest seemed to be dry. He threw the skin out of the door and went over to Boyd, who had started drinking from the cup. He knelt down again.  
“How do you feel now?” he asked.  
A weak “Better” was the answer.  
“Good,” he replied. “Undress.” Then he got up and turned to the unconscious young man on the floor.  
He looked down to the boy and was about to grab his to lift him up when he heard Boyd asking, “S-s-sorry?”  
Ives stopped in the middle of what he was doing and turned around again, annoyed.  
“I said, undress!”  
He saw Boyd sitting there, in panic.  
“Are you going to rape me now?” the man asked, alarmed.  
“No, you fucking idiot. I am going to wash your stinking clothes! You have four days left to reconsider! Now undress!”  
He turned around again, grabbed the young man’s hand, lifted him up and finally put him down to the bed. When he lay there, sleeping, Ives knew that everything was going to be alright. Everything was as it was supposed to be. He didn’t feel pity or compassion, the only thing he saw was something to play with. He licked his lips. Then turned around to check on Boyd.  
The man had started undressing. He obviously could use his arms and legs again. The trousers were gone and the boots and the shirt.  
“Underwear,” he said. He tried to make his voice as hard as he could when he spoke to Boyd. He tried to give the impression of an uncompromising man who had no feelings for others at all. He wanted Boyd to obey, to play along. He didn’t want to kill him. It seemed to work, now all the clothes were gone and he collected them from the floor and threw them outside. Then he untied Boyd.  
“Follow me.” He turned around and left the cabin without taking a second look at Boyd. The man just had to follow him. Inside he was nervous, but outside he seemed unaffected. The air outside it was cold. He watched an eagle ascending to the sky, then took out his pipe and matches. Suddenly he heard steps behind him. He cheered. He had won. The match lit the pipe and when the shivering Boyd stood next to him he was already puffing.  
His eyes were still on the eagle when he said, “There’s a rain barrel over there. Wash yourself.” He turned around to look into Boyd’s eyes. “Thoroughly. Everywhere.” He grinned. Then turned his gaze away, searching the eagle in the sky again. Boyd didn’t say anything. Ives just heard the man approaching the well slowly.

  
****

  
He was back in the cabin and he was sitting on the chair. He was clean, shaved and he even had some nice stew in front of him that was waiting to be eaten. It was made from the deer Ives had hunted two days ago. Not human. He tried it. It was good. Ives was sitting opposite of him, eating the stew hungrily, but mechanical. He seemed to be elsewhere with his thoughts. As was Boyd. Ives had trusted him with his shaving knife. And Boyd hadn’t betrayed this trust with attacking him or trying to run away. Stupid. Why had he been this stupid? He didn’t know. A sick sense of honour? Why would you stay with the man who captured you and threatens to rape and kill and eat you?  
“Don’t you like it?” Ives asked sharply.  
Boyd hurried to put as much of the stew on his spoon as he could before he said: “No, no, I like it, it is tasty.” Then he put the spoon into his mouth and chewed.  
“Good.” Ives started eating again. “It’s even better with human meat…” he added and with that staring gaze of his he looked into Boyd’s eyes. Why does he do this? Does he want to provoke me? Provoke a reaction? Is this a threat? A predatory look? Am I going to be the next stew? He looked down on his plate and went on eating. Better say nothing, he thought.  
The boy was lying on the bed. He was bound now, not Boyd. He was still asleep and lying on his stomach. Boyd doubted that he was older than nineteen. A white boy, not an Indian, maybe a runaway? A criminal? His clothes looked shabby and his face and hands were dirty. But Boyd could see that he was a good looking young lad, he was thin but probably strong, he seemed to be used to working. His arms were muscular, he could see that as the shirt was ripped open at his right arm. His dark hair was long and it was bound together at the neck. Maybe if he untied him at night they could flee together. Maybe kill Ives. That thought suddenly made his stomach hurt. Killing Ives…that idea didn’t fill him with relief anymore, but with...sadness. Why did he feel that way? Ives was a monster. It would be better if he got rid of him. It would be better for the world.  
When Boyd looked up he realized that Ives was still staring at him. He had finished his meal. “Okay,” he said, not looking away at all, just staring at Boyd with his hungry eyes. He didn’t look sated at all. Maybe he lusted for something other than food now…A cold shiver ran down Boyd’s spine.  
“I need your decision now.”  
“But there are four days left.” Boyd insisted.  
“Yes, I know. But I want you now.” He reached over the table and grabbed Boyd’s hand. “I want you under me, giving yourself willingly to me. I want to fuck you. I want to come inside you. And I want you to enjoy it.”  
Boyd didn’t know what was happening to him. His pulse accelerated. He swallowed hard and he realized that it was hard for him to breathe. Those words sent shivers down his spine again and his stomach felt as if someone was gripping it with an iron fist. And also his heart. And he felt his cock pulsating in his trousers. He felt dizzy. What is happening to me? He thought, desperate. He closed his eyes and swallowed again. He needed to close his eyes, he couldn’t stand looking into those dark, piercing eyes in front of him. “No,” he said. “My answer is no.”  
Ives didn’t react, so Boyd opened his eyes again, just to find Ives staring at him with…what was it? Hate? Disappointment? Determination? He didn’t know. But then, finally, Ives said something, while taking out his pipe again.  
“Boyd…what do you think I brought the boy for?” he asked silently. A match lit up and Ives began to concentrate on bringing the pipe to life.  
Boyd swallowed. “Food?” And when he saw Ives grin he added: “Sex?”  
“Indeed. Both of that.” Ives smiled at him. "But if you decide to help me out with the sex part, the boy might not have to suffer that much before he dies.” He never stopped smiling.  
Boyd froze. Now he was supposed to pay with his body to help the boy? He could as well do it as he was going to pay anyway. But Ives would probably torture the boy nvertheless. And this smile was so annoying. He made a quick decision. “No,” he said and looked down do the floor. But he could feel how Ives smile vanished immediately. The man got up. “Okay, if this is what you want…”  
Boyd didn’t see it coming. Suddenly Ives was over him and he was once again bound, to the chair he was sitting on this time. His arms were torn behind his back and tied there, his legs were soon tied to the legs of the chair. It went all too fast. And maybe Boyd didn’t fight enough. He felt so old, and weak.  
Ives bent down, took Boyd’s head in his hands and said: “Watch then. This is on you.” Without a warning he pressed his lips on Boyd’s and kissed him. Then he got up and was at the bed in less than a second. The young man over there was still sleeping, but not for long. Ives turned him on his side as far as the ropes allowed and opened his trousers. The man awoke slowly during the process.  
“Ww…what? Who…?” he asked, still half asleep. He must be on drugs, Boyd thought.  
“Sshh…” Ives said. He was kneeling between the boys’ legs and now bent over him. “Just don’t move. It will hurt less this way.  
“What?" He boy tried to turn around, but he was restrained by the ropes. They were so tight that he couldn’t move at all. He began to panic and tried to fight Ives but the man was pressing his head down to the bed and the screaming stopped very fast. He probably couldn’t breathe right.  
“Ives, stop it.” Boyd said. “What has he done to you?” Boyd felt panic rising. He couldn’t get up, apparently Ives was really good at tying people to things.  
Ives laughed. “He did nothing to me,” he said. He let go off the head and started pulling down the boys’ trousers. “It is my nature given right to take him. I am a superior being. And so could you.”  
“Please, Ives. Please, let him go.” Boyd begged. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it would explode. He could have prevented this.  
“You had your chance,” Ives said calmly and full of disgust, while looking at Boyd, pressing the boy down with one hand and opening his own trousers with the other. “Now shut up. And watch. This is what is going to happen to you soon.”  
The young man was whispering something, and when Boyd listened closely he heard him praying Hail Mary. He saw tears and then he realized that not only the boy was crying but so was he.  
“Don’t look at his face, look at what I am doing here!” Ives shouted, and when Boyd lifted his gaze from the crying face he saw that Ives had opened his trousers and that his cock was laying hard and throbbing in his hand. He grinned at Boyd. Then he spit in his hand and wanted to use the spit to make the young man’s arsehole slick, but he suddenly stopped, grinned even more, got up from the bed and went over to Boyd. Now he stood there, his cock in one hand, pointing at Boyd’s head. Oh my God, what does he want now? Boyd though, panicking again. But Ives only held his other hand right under Boyd’s nose. “Spit,” he commanded. And Boyd did as he was told, and his saliva mixed now with Ives’ in the man’s hand. “Thank you,” Ives laughed, went back to the bed and started to spread the saliva between the young man’s cheeks. And when he screamed, Ives slapped him, hard. This made him stop and he was silent. Ives started inserting the tip of his cock into the young man’s arsehole. He was sobbing uncontrollably now.  
“You know,” Ives said, looking at Boyd, “If you had agreed to a more…friendly relationship, I would have stretched you before doing this.” He grinned. “Now I won’t.” He pressed his cock into the other man, obviously feeling pain himself. But the young man seemed to be in hell right now. He screamed again but another hard slap made him stop. “Stretching is a way of not making it hurt that much.” He looked at Boyd again, smiling “but I don’t really care. I like it either way.” And when he said that he pushed in hard and his whole cock was buried inside the young man’s arse now. The young man wasn’t screaming anymore. The only thing you could hear was a desperate whimpering.  
Boyd couldn’t see clearly anymore because his eyes were filled with tears. How could Ives do that? He had to try again. “Please Ives, stop. I’ll do what you want.”  
Ives laughed again and he started to pull out his cock and push it in again in a steady rhythm. “You’ll do - what I want - anyway.” He said, in the same rhythm.  
Boyd didn’t know what to say anymore. He just sat there and watched. Whenever the whimpering went louder, Ives slapped the boy to shut him up. But it seemed to Boyd that Ives wasn’t annoyed by the screaming, he probably just wanted to have a reason for slapping him, because every time he slapped him, Ives thrusts became harder and he started moaning. He had a lovely voice when he was moaning. And he was so beautiful when he looked at Boyd, his eyes all glassy, his pupils widened and when he came hard inside the boy and whispered, “You’re next.”

  
****

  
He did everything he had promised. During the next three days and nights, Ives had raped the boy and then he had raped him again, and again and again and again. He had slapped and whipped him with a rope until he had bled. He had strangled him until the boy had become unconscious. Not only had he fucked his arse but he had also fucked his mouth and had forced the young man to swallow his spunk. He had come all over his face and had forced Boyd to lick it off. If he hadn’t done it, Ives had threatened to cut off an ear. Boyd had believed him. In the end Ives had killed the boy with a knife. It had been fast and it had been a relief.  
Ives had turned him around after all and fucked him once more so he could see his eyes while he cut his throat in the moment of his own climax. It had probably been a horrible way to die but at least Ives hadn’t cut parts of the body before killing him. Boyd knew that the stew they were eating now was not made from deer anymore. But he didn’t object. He just ate and was happy that it wasn’t him who was being eaten. He suffered from those horrible deeds and he mourned the man, whose life had been taken at such an early age. He thought he could never smile again. He was disgusted by Ives, he hated him and yet….the most terrible thing was that he had enjoyed parts of it.  
He probably had gone mad. How can you enjoy watching rape? But he had already noticed it when Ives had fucked the boy for the first time – his prick had been hard like a rock. And every time Ives had done it, it had been the same. Although it had been disgusting, it had been so arousing at the same time. He didn’t know what it was. Was it Ives? Was it the power he had over life and death? Was it the sex? He had no clue. The only thing he knew was that when he had knelt down on the floor, his hands tied behind is back, Ives hand in his hair, forcing him down to lick the cum from the boy’s face…all he wanted was to lick it directly from Ives’ hard cock.  
He wanted to take him in, he wanted Ives to tighten his grip in his hair and to force his cock down his throat. He wanted to look up, to see his eyes, see the ecstasy in it, he wanted to swallow his cum when Ives came into his mouth while letting out the faint moan that Boyd had heard now from time to time. All these thoughts had been rushing through his head while he had licked the cum off the boy and he was ashamed of them as well as of the massive erection he had felt.  
It would have taken only very little to make him come, but he hoped Ives hadn’t noticed. Boyd felt desperate, ashamed, guilty and depressed all at the same time. And yet every time his eyes met Ives’ his heart filled with joy and the only thing he wanted was to surrender himself to the man’s will. He didn’t know. And there was only one day left.

  
****

  
He had done it as he always did it. It had been fun, it had given him more power and most of all, it had given him relief. He was more patient now, he could think clearly after this…orgy of sex and violence. The fact that Boyd had watched all this had turned him on so much that it hadn’t been easy to spare him. He wanted to ravish him, while he took the boy.  
Once he hadn’t been able to resist, he had forced Boyd to lick off his sperm from the boys’ face. Oh and he had been eager to do it. Boyd could deny it as much as he wanted, he was totally into it. He was a born wendigo, a valuable companion, a partner in crime and life. But he was also stubborn and he had a strong code of conduct. He was so driven to do the right thing that it was painful. And there was only one day left. He couldn’t do more. It was now Boyd’s decision alone. He hoped he would choose life. It could be beautiful. But whatever Boyd decided, in the end he would have him. Killing him would be bittersweet.

  
****

  
They sat opposite each other at the table, they had just finished their meal. Ives didn’t want to start it. He trembled. But it was about time.  
“Time’s up,” he said, as harsh as he could. It felt like the words were piercing his own heart. “What is your decision?”  
Boyd hesitated. Then he plucked his courage and asked: “If I agree, you are not going to kill me?  
“Not for now.” Please, please agree. I don’t want to kill you. Please.  
Boyd sighed. “Okay then.” He said, subdued.  
Ives felt the heavy blackness disappear from his heart. He smiled. And when Boyd saw that smile, he knew, that this time it was genuine.  
“You are not going to kill me!” he said, and it was not a question. He felt so relieved.  
Ives knew that he had made a mistake and he tried to cover it with brusqueness. “For now! Undress then!”  
He had waited too long for this.  
Boyd knew that there was no way of getting out of this anymore. And maybe he didn’t even want to get out of it. He didn’t know. So he sighed, and started undressing, mechanically. He folded his clothes and laid them on the stool. Ives watched him and Boyd could see him lick his lips once. He couldn’t understand why Ives was so fixated on him but then again, who would understand Ives? Probably not even Ives himself.  
When he was finished, he didn’t know what was expected of him, so he went over to the bed and lay there, face down.  
Ives didn’t know what to say. When had Boyd become this obedient? He could just go over there and fuck him. He probably wouldn’t even try to fight him. But no. He wanted him to enjoy it. So he smiled and said, “No. Turn around.”  
That surprised Boyd, but he obeyed. He lay there and watched Ives, who stood in front of the bed. The man started undressing himself, and Boyd swallowed when he saw his erection as soon as he had opened his trousers. He had seen it before, of course, but this time, it was ready for him – not some poor boy.  
“I like you when you’re all…obedient. Stay like that. It will help you to survive.” He sniggered. Then he knelt down on the bed and commanded, “Touch it.”  
Boyd frowned. “You didn’t want the other one to touch you.”  
Ives laughed. “I didn’t want the other one to enjoy it.”  
Enjoy it? Boyd wondered if that was possible. But then he remembered the feelings he had had when Ives had fucked the boy…and he realized that he was aroused already. And at this point it didn’t really matter anymore, did it? So he reached for the cock in front of him, contained it in his hand. His hand was shaking at first, but then he tried a firm grip. It felt okay.  
“Don’t be shy,” Ives said. “Stroke it.” And Boyd did. He just imagined it was his own cock. He knew what to do with that one. Ives seemed to like it, his eyes were closed now and he was breathing heavily. Then he suddenly looked at him again.  
“Oh…Boyd…I am sorry, but I’ve needed this so much and if we want this to be…let’s say…less hurtful, I need to come pretty soon. I might not be able to hold back otherwise.”  
He was sorry? Since when was Ives sorry for anything? And make him come? God, this sounded so wrong. He didn’t know what to say.  
“Ugh, okay?” was all he could think of. Funnily enough, he liked stroking him. This was all so new and yet not strange at all. With a man you just knew what you had to do. Ives reactions were very clear.  
“Good. Suck me then.” Ives ordered. And to encourage him, Ives reached for Boyd’s own hard cock and started stroking him as well. The feeling was overwhelming. Having the cock of this man in his hand while he was being masturbated was nearly more than he could bear. So the decision he made was nearly an unconscious one. He sat up and took the still kneeling Ives in his mouth. It felt almost natural.  
At first he didn’t know what to do now, but soon he started exploring the tip with his tongue, very careful. Ives didn’t stop stroking him and the feeling he gave him was so good, that he would have done pretty much everything. Boyd wondered why he wasn’t disgusted. Disgusted because he had the member of another man in his mouth, the member of a fucking psycho, a cannibal. But the feeling was gone soon, and he didn’t think about whether this was right or wrong anymore. Quickly he became bolder and he took in more of Ives and soon he tried a steady pace, taking him in and out and in and out. A lot of sensations that were new to him, that assailed him, that made everything unreal.  
He didn’t think at all, it was just him and Ives now, or better, him and Ives’ cock. After a while that felt like eternity he tasted a thick, strange fluid, but it wasn’t much and he knew it was pre-come. And suddenly, he felt this grip in his hair and those hands forced the cock further down his throat. The stroking had stopped but he didn’t care. He wanted to finish this now. Ives cock had been pretty thick already but it had got even thicker now. Ruthlessly, Ives held him by his hair and fucked him.  
He couldn’t do anything about it, he just tried not to choke. Ives didn’t seem to care, six, seven hard thrusts and he came, and he didn’t let go off Boyd, so all the spunk ended up in his mouth. Boyd tried to fight Ives now, who suddenly seemed to wake up from a trance-like state. He stared down at Boyd, glassy eyes, then let go off him. Boyd fell back on the bed and he started coughing and half of the cum ran out is mouth and nose. He had even swallowed a bit. He felt like shit. And yet he would do it again. He would do anything, this man demanded.

  
****

  
Ives looked down on Boyd, breathing heavily. This had been so good. Boyd was perfect. He would just have to take care that he didn’t play too rough with him. He didn’t want to break him. I still need him. I really, really need him. He has to stay with me forever. Perfect. He watched Boyd, coughing and trying to get rid of the spunk in his nose. Cute. And now that I’m sated I will be patient enough to prepare him for what comes next. He smiled and grabbed Boyd’s arm, then turned the man around, so his beautiful arse was visible. The man didn’t even realize what he was doing, still gasping for air and coughing and spitting. Cute little virgin. You will so love it… Ives took a piece of butter from the chest where they kept their supplies, went back to the bed and knelt between Boyds legs.  
“While you are trying not to die over there I am going to prepare you a bit!” he shouted.  
Prepare me? Boyd thought. Stretching, it suddenly came to him. Ives had told him about that. He was going to be fucked and he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. Ives’s spunk was still dripping from his nose, his eyes were full of tears, his throat hurt but the thought of being fucked by the cannibal was something that made him focus on other things again. He didn’t know why, but he was eager to try it. Ives’ cock had been hard and tasty, his grip had been firm. The man knew what he wanted and he was probably good at it. He felt his erection building up again. Boyd wanted to have that prick inside him like nothing else. “OK.” He said, and got up on his knees.  
Okay? What had happened to that man? Ives thought. He agreed to everything now. He even seemed to enjoy it. This is easier than I thought. Maybe I can be a bit rougher…he smiled.  
Ives unwrapped the butter, took a large amount of it, and placed it directly on Boyd’s arsehole. The man jerked. “What is this?” he asked.  
“Butter. Nothing to be afraid of.” He started to spread the butter around Boyd’s asshole, then inserted a finger. He was careful. He had never been this careful before. But Boyd was a virgin and so his sphincter tightened immediately. I like that, he smiled. He should do that when I’m inside later….”Relax,” he said. “Or it will hurt!”  
Boyd tried to relax. His breath went fast and his heart was beating frantically. It will hurt, he thought. It will fucking hurt. I remember what he did to the boy….but then again…why is he using butter?  
“You didn’t use butter on the other one,” Boyd said, puzzled.  
“I wanted the other one to feel pain.” Ives answered, his voice cruel.  
Boyd froze and he felt pain inside, instantly. “Why?” he wanted to know.  
“Relax, Boyd.” And Boyd relaxed. Ives massaged the sphincter now, the butter had made everything very slick. Maybe I can already put in another one?  
“Why?” Boyd wanted to know again.  
Ives sighed. “Two reasons. One: I wanted you to see what would happen if you didn’t agree to this. Two: I like making the weak ones suffer.” He sniggered. “It makes me hard. Even thinking back to it makes me hard again.”  
Boyd shivered. The monster was back. But the monster’s movements inside his arse were not brutal at all, they were…gentle. He loved it, and he let out a soft moan.  
“Ah, you like it. Then I can proceed.” And as soon as he had said that, Boyd felt, how is anus was stretched more, because another finger slid in there.  
Boyd probably didn’t realize, but he even pressed his body against Ives hand. He wanted him in there and the fact sent him into rapture. “You’re such a whore,” Ives whispered, then proceeded to stretch him. He wouldn’t need long. The man was willing, not behaving like a virgin at all.  
Between gasps and moans Boyd asked: “Why does torturing turn you on that much?”  
Ives stopped the movements of his fingers as if he had to think about this. Then he went on.  
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. We are wendigos, we are made to rule. We devour the weak ones, we eat them, we rape them, we torture them. We’re full of power. It is our nature given right. The meek shall never inherit the earth.” He pulled out his fingers and grabbed his hard cock. “And now shut up, I’m going to fuck you now.” He let his cock slap on Boyd’s arse a couple of times, then inserted the tip into his hole. Boyd moaned. “It hurts….” Ives grabbed around the man’s body, only to find his cock there, hard and warm and throbbing. Can’t be that bad…he thought, gripped Boyd’s pelvis and proceeded. “Shut up,” he said, and forced himself in. God, he’s tight. Wonderful. But Ives didn’t stop, even when Boyd was whimpering. As long as he is on his knees and doesn’t collapse, it is okay, he thought. The feeling was intense and when he reached for Boyd’s cock again he found it hard again, it was even dripping. The man obviously didn’t know it, but he liked it rough. Ives leaned forward and whispered: “I’m going to show you what ecstasy is.” And then he thrust into Ives, hard, and he knew he had been successful when the man under him cried out loud, not in pain, but in bliss. “You see now that it was a mistake to refuse so long?” Ives asked, bending over again to whisper into Boyd’s ear.  
“Yes,” Boyd cried. “Yes…..” And then there was only moaning.  
Ives thrust again into Boyd, harder this time and he hit the spot again. Boyd whimpered again and pressed against him. Ives wanted to make him come like he had never come before. He started pushing inside in a steady rhythm and masturbated Boyd at the same time. With his other hand he took the rope that was still in the bed and laid it around Boyd’s neck. He let go off Ives cock and made a knot.  
“What….are….you….doing?” Boyd asked in between pants.  
Ives knew he was close now. Again.  
“Shut up. Enjoy the ride.” Ives pulled the rope with one hand, proceeded masturbating Boyd with the other hand and fucked him as hard as he could at the same time. The man tried to moan but you couldn’t hear a sound. Ives felt his orgasm build up and when he came he felt how Boyd’s hot spunk covered his hand.

  
****

  
They were lying in the bed, Ives behind Boyd, one arm under his head, the other wrapped around him. There was a red mark around Boyd’s neck and he knew that the man felt pain. Nevertheless Boyd pressed his body against Ives, as if he was seeking his protection. Funny. Seek protection at the predator. Ives lifted his head and whispered into Boyd’s ear.  
“Never leave me.”  
A sleepy voice answered. “What are you going to do to me?”  
Silence. Then Ives said: “I don’t know. Honestly.”  
Boyd didn’t answer anymore. He had fallen asleep.


End file.
